October 23, 2012

COBRA: How Not To Eat Pizza

This movie tortures me. It's either the
one of the cleverest movies of all time or one of the dumbest.

I’ve watched Cobra several
times over the years since it came out in '86. I’ll probably watch
the damn thing several more times just trying to figure it out,
because I’m convinced Mr. Stallone is trying to mess with my head.

Marion Corbretti (Stallone) is the
baddest member of the Zombie Squad, L.A. cops who handle the jobs no
one else wants (I didn’t know cops were allowed to pick their
cases). We first meet Cobretti (aka ‘Cobra’) when he’s called
in to deal with a shotgun-toting psycho who's blowing away customers at
a supermarket. Cobra roars up in a nitro-feuled, Titanic-sized hot
rod. Decked-out in a skin-tight black T-shirt, even tighter jeans,
boots, sculpted hair, mirrored shades, leather gloves and a toothpick
in his jaw, Cobra makes Duke Nukem look like Justin Long. He
strolls into the darkened store, finds his quarry, pops open a beer,
takes a drink, tosses out a casual one-liner (“You're the
disease...I'm the cure”) and blows the guy away. At no time does he
remove his sunglasses.

It's at this point I'm wondering if
this is supposed to be a
comedy, because the whole scene is pretty damned funny, which
actually makes sense when you consider Cobra began life as
Sylvester Stallone’s rewrite of Beverly Hills Cop back when
he was originally offered the role. Anyway, even though he saves the
day, Cobra is berated by a dumbass reporter for
killing the man, never mind that the perp already slaughtered several
innocent people.

After another productive day of blowing
folks away, Cobra retreats to his Malibu apartment. This is where
the movie really gets weird. First, he turns on the TV so it can
inform us of the movie's plot...a string of random axe-killings.
While he's watching TV and cleaning his gun, Cobra takes a slice
of leftover pizza from his freezer and uses a pair of
scissors to cut off a little triangle for himself...still wearing his
gloves. Then he eats it frozen.

I've occasionally seen folks use a
knife and fork to eat pizza, which is somewhat anal-retentive to begin
with...but scissors? Raise your hand if you've ever thought a slice of pizza
was so unmanageable you felt the need to cut it
into smaller pieces. And even if you are OCD, would
scissors ever come-to-mind as the perfect tool for the job?

Surely, Cobra must be a comedy,
because this is the most random, off the wall and downright weird
scene I've ever witnessed in an action movie. And, yes, it's funny as
hell.

Then the killings start. People are
stalked and slaughtered by a group of axe-wielding lunatics, apparently doing this to create their own New World. They are
led by a perpetually-sweaty guy called the Night Slasher (Brian
Thompson), whose nostrils flare so huge you could park your car in
them, and whose eyes threaten to pop out of his skull like an
overly-excited Pomeranian. We're also treated to several backlit
scenes of this cult ceremoniously raising their axes over their heads and clanking
them together.

Okay...maybe Cobra is still a
comedy...just a black comedy.

Then this cult makes a mistake. They
leave a living witness to one of their killings, a fashion model
named Ingrid, played by Brigitte Nielsen (who was Stallone's
girlfriend at the time). We know she's a model by the hilarious photo
shoot where she poses seductively among robots which look like there
were constructed from shit kids find in the garage. Speaking of Ms.
Nielsen, even though I always thought she looked like a man in drag
(especially in recent years), I gotta admit Cobra is one movie
where she doesn't look half bad (though he thespian skills are still all bad).

"Dude...how's my hair?"

Fearing the Night Slasher will come
after her, Cobra and his thankless partner, Tony (Reni Santoni), are
assigned to protect her. The two also fight over her hospital food in
yet-another WTF scene (there are actually a lot of strange
scenes related to food). Tony reassures Ingrid that no one is better
than Cobra at catching psychos, yet the audience never actually gets
to witness this supposed talent. In fact, Cobra does no real detective work
throughout the entire movie. Most of the time, he's running away
from these psychos with Ingrid & Tony in-tow, occasionally
riddling them with bullets when they get too close.

Speaking of which, the Night Slasher's
cult army must consist of the biggest dumbasses to ever walk the
Earth, as exemplified during a scene in which they are chasing Cobra
& Ingrid on motorcycles. Cobra's in the bed of a pick-up,
spraying machine gun fire at his pursuers, who drop like flies as
they are gunned down. Do the others make any attempt to avoid dying? No. They keep
coming (not even swerving out of the way), only to be gunned down themselves. It's like my annual battle
with ants in my kitchen. It doesn't matter how many ants I dispatch with
spray, traps or the good-old-fashioned fist, the other ants don't get
the message and keep on coming.

Surely this must be a comedy...right?

But it's not all mayhem. Halfway
through, there's the get-to-know-you scene where Cobra
comments on the amount of ketchup Ingrid put on her fries (yet
another random food scene), followed by a
romantic interlude where Ingrid has the hots for Cobra. When she
tries to get close, he warns her, “Not a lot of people like the way
I live.” I don't know if this statement is supposed to signify his
dedication to his job, his 'rebellious loner' status or his penchant for using office supplies to cut his food. I guess it
doesn't matter, because Cobra and Ingrid end up doing doing the nasty
anyway.

Anyway, by the end, after all the
violent heroics, bloodshed, corny dialogue and the concluding scene
where Cobra & Ingrid ride off into the sunset on a Harley to yet-another synthesized 80's tune, I'm still left with this
quandary: Is thissupposed to be a an ironic black comedy, or
the most cynical vanity project in Sylvester Stallone's entire
filmography? This very question might make Cobra one of his most watchable movies.

Even after all these years, long after
I finally understood the final scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey,
I'm still tortured by why Marion Cobretti feels the need to use
scissors to cut his pizza.

The Doll

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About D.M. Anderson

D.M. Anderson works and lives in Portland Oregon. He is the author of two young adult novels (Killer Cows & Shaken) and a collection of dark tales (With the Wicked). He has also published several short stories which have appeared (or will appear) in various anthologies and magazines such as 69 Flavors of Paranoia, Night Terrors, Trembles, Encounters, Implosion, Strange Fucking Stories, Perpetual Motion Machine. He documents his adventures in the dark onon his movie site, Free Kittens Movie Guide.